


This Smoke Between Us

by Ricksbowlegs



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl smoking is hot, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:11:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricksbowlegs/pseuds/Ricksbowlegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl smokes. Rick hates it...or so he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Smoke Between Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tiofrean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/gifts).



> This is for the amazing Tiofrean for giving me the idea. Don't know if this is what you had in mind, but it's what came out of mine. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! :D
> 
> Unbetad. All my mistakes. I apologize for each of them.

Rick stepped out into the porch where he knew Daryl had sneaked out to, and was immediately slapped in the face with a thick cloud of stinky, grey smoke. 

Scrunching up his nose, he waved the stench away from his face with irritation. He didn’t like it, hated it in fact, that Daryl seemed to smoke as if his life depended on it and as if he didn’t give two shits about what happened to him at the same time. 

They’d gotten together a little over two weeks ago; when things had settled down after the herd and they could no longer deny the feelings they had for each other.

It surprised them both how effortless it was to go from the tight friendship they had to something more, but the basis of their relationship was already well established; all they needed to do was surpass the physical barriers. And when that happened, it was natural; familiar as well as new and exciting and just right in many senses. They fit together, understood each other on a deeper level, connected and communicated without need for words, always in tune with one another; nothing hanged between them…save for those cigarettes.

There was a whole world out there of things and people trying to kill them and here he was, Daryl Dixon, survivor of many disasters, the wise hunter, the go to guy to fix any problem, the man who always came at the right time to save their asses, the guy who had everything figured out about how to survive the apocalypse way before Rick even learned how to properly kill a walker, speeding up the process by shoving cancer stick after cancer stick on his face. It didn’t make any sense and he was getting tired of it.

“How have you not ran out of those things yet?”

“What,” Daryl huffed and lifted the white cylinder in his hand, “this?”

“Yeah, that,” Rick grumbled, creasing his brow. “How do you keep finding them?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” Daryl shrugged, smirking proudly before taking a long, eager drag from his cigarette and keeping the smoke in his lungs for a moment before letting it out through his nose. “…an’ I know how to look fer ‘em.”

“Think you deserve to be praised for it?” he said, a bit snappier than he intended, or maybe not enough.

Daryl couldn’t care less of course, to be snapped at, so he just smirked and took another drag, savoring the smoke as it entered his lungs- his poor lungs.

Rick shook his head and looked out into the street. “I hate it.”

“I know,” Daryl said simply around a mouthful of smoke.

“I don’t like to kiss you when you taste like that,” Rick muttered, looking back to the smoking archer.

Daryl shrugged. “I ain’t forcin’ ya to.”

Huffing in indignation, Rick turned on his heels and entered the house, leaving Daryl to his disgusting habit. 

 

“Kay, where r’ they?” Daryl said before even saying good morning to him the next day, stomping into his bedroom where he was redressing Judith after giving her a bath. 

“Where’s what?” the leader asked innocently, keeping his attention on the task at hand of putting a pink dress on his daughter.

“Ya know what, Grimes,” Daryl huffed, wandering about the small room and opening drawers here and there.

“I just made the bed,” Rick complained when Daryl lifted the pillow to look underneath. 

“Give ‘em back,” Daryl demanded, trying to fix him with an annoyed look that melted instantly as he leaned forward and kissed Judith’s forehead. “Ya think yer bein’ cute?”

Rick had to make an effort not to smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” he said innocently, taking Judy into his arms when he was done dressing her.

“Ya know what,” Daryl sighed, throwing the pillow back in its place, obviously not bothering to arrange it to the way it was. “Just give ‘em back man. Gonna find ‘em anyway, n’ if I don’t, I’mma find some more out there.”

Rick shrugged. “Go ahead.”

The next day, he found Daryl in sitting in the porch with his legs stretched in front of him, sporting the smuggest semblance the leader had ever seen on him while smoking a cigarette.

“Told ya I’d find ‘em.”

“You didn’t find them,” he scoffed. “Carol found them and gave them back to you. There's a difference.”

“Well next time don’ leave ‘em where she can find ‘em. She’s on ma’ team, ya know?”

Yeah, probably the kitchen cabinet hadn’t been the brightest of ideas, but since Daryl never cooked or bothered to use a plate to eat whatever he’d scavenged from the fridge or the animals he’d caught, Rick figured it’d be okay to hide them there, but he probably should’ve let Carol in on his plans of making Daryl quit. She’d sure back him up on that.

“Smoke them all if you want,” Rick replied, shifting his gaze from Daryl’s form to everywhere but him just to seem uninterested, then muttered. “But you can forget about kissing me.”

“Wanna see ya try holdin’ on t’ that threat,” Daryl said after a snort, sounding a tad too self assured to Rick’s liking. 

“I mean it, Daryl,” he said firmly, meeting the hunter’s blue eyes to stress his point, “if you want to kiss me again, you’ll have to quit smoking. Your pick.”

The hunter replied by inhaling a copious amount of smoke and boldly blowing it toward Rick’s general direction. Not that it reached him for he was far enough from the archer for the smoke to dissipate before it did— but it still pissed him off. 

Walking up to Daryl without uttering a single word, he snatched the cigarette from between Daryl’s fingers, let it fall to the floor, then rammed his boot on it until it was a mess of ripped white paper and strewn about tobacco. 

It was the leader’s turn to look smug as he looked back to Daryl, but the hunter merely snorted and shook his head. Making a show of it, he reached into the pocket of his worn down pants and fished out another cigarette. 

Rick followed Daryl’s hands as they put the beaten cigarette between thin lips and flicked the ligther into life to light the stench stick through narrowed eyes. He waited until the archer took one smoke before leaning closer to snatch the cigarette from Daryl’s lips and give it the same treatment with his boot.

And yet again, Daryl addressed him with mirth. “Ya done?”

Rick put his hands on his hips. “Are you?”

Daryl shook his head and once more, his hand reached down to his pocket and fished out a third cigarette. Rick bristled, looking at Daryl with incredulity as the hunter lit it with a self-satisfied attitude.

“I can do this until you’re out of them,” Rick threatened and leaned down to take the third cigarette, but this time, the archer didn’t let him get away with it and tightly grabbed his wrist instead. “Fuck!” he yelped at the suddenness of the action that made him lose his balance and fall face first on Daryl’s lap.

“Ya asked fer it Grimes,” Daryl gruffed and flicking the barely consumed cigarette toward the street, he wrestled Rick around so he was looking up now with his back resting on his thighs and grabbed his wrists together to keep him still. 

“Daryl, let me go,” he said calmly, trying to keep an annoyed expression on his face while struggling to get himself free of the archer’s hold. His struggles were in vain of course. Daryl had a firm hold on him and he was in an awkward angle to begin with.

“No more kissing, huh?” Daryl huffed, leaning closer to his face. Rick closed his eyes as the smell of tobacco filled his nostrils and sent an unwilling jolt of pleasure to his cock.

He was confused now, confused and aroused.

“Yeah,” he said weakly while raking his eyes over Daryl’s handsome features. And as he shifted a bit in Daryl’s lap, Rick felt that unmistakable bulge against his shoulder blade. He swallowed thickly.

“Ya sure ya can handle that?” Daryl huffed huskily, leaning closer still. 

Rick licked his lips in anticipation, fixing his heated glance on the mouth he loved to kiss so much. 

“I’m not kissing you,” he said breathily, “while you taste like an ashtray.”

“An ashtray, huh?” Daryl grunted, leaning closer still.

Rick couldn’t stop a smirk from tugging at his lips. He nodded. 

Daryl was so deliciously close that he was surrounded by the smoky scent, and for some reason, it kept sending occasional jolts of pleasure to his cock. Unconsciously, Rick lifted his head from where it rested against the older man’s thigh just enough so their lips were brushing. Daryl made no move to meet him halfway but he stayed right where he was. 

Their breaths started to mingle and Rick closed his eyes to better appreciate the sharp cigarette scent, lifting his head at the same time a bit more, puckering up to kiss the archer’s thinner lips. 

Rick started rocking his hips into the air as his cock grew painful with arousal and he moaned against the lips when they pressed harder on his, parting to let a warm tongue slip past them. He opened his mouth in welcome and they kissed properly this time; the smoky taste invading his tongue in the most alluring way.

And too damn soon, Daryl pulled away and gently but firmly maneuvering him into a sitting position beside him. “Yer free t’ go. Now lemme enjoy ma’ last cigarette ‘fore I go upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” he said in confusion as he stood up, still in a daze. 

“The empty room,” Daryl explained. “Ya gon’ be waitin’ fer me there, ain’t ya?”

He licked his lips and nodded dumbly before going back inside; briefly checking on Carl and Judith before hurrying upstairs to the unoccupied room next to Michonne’s to wait for Daryl, adjusting himself in his pants as he closed the door. 

Rick was nervous. So nervous he stood in the middle of the room for several minutes doing nothing but stressing about the fact that they’d be spending the night _together_ for the first time. 

When Daryl’s footsteps approached the bedroom, it was too late to do anything so he just let go.

It was their first time going further than a few blowjobs and rutting against each other with their clothes on. And Rick was in absolute bliss at the new sensations being with a man brought on him. Daryl was heavy and hard on top of him and his scruff tickled his bare skin as he grunted and huffed predatorily against his neck, leaving wet trails from open mouthed kisses and tender love bites. 

When Daryl pushed into him all the way and he could feel his girth in the pit of his belly, Rick felt whole, more than ever before. And then he pulled out, sliding that thick, hot shaft through his inner walls in the most deliciously slow rhythm. As Daryl pushed back in, he buried his face on the archer’s neck and inhaled deeply to bask in the man’s scent, that combination of musk, sweat and smoke... _cigarette smoke_. Christ, that smell! He _loved_ that smell. 

Suddenly, Daryl changed his angle and rhythm to a much faster and deeper pace and in one of those endless thrusts, Rick arched his back and moaned into Daryl’s mouth as he came between their bellies. The archer followed soon after.

“That was somethin’ else,” Daryl said after kissing him sweetly and rolled off from on top of him to lie next to him on the bed. 

“It was,” Rick said, smiling lazily and shifted closer to the older man. “I wanna go again.”

Daryl arched his eyebrow at him and smirked. “Hell, yeah.” Just as he said that, Daryl sat up on the bed and searched for his pants. When he found them, he started putting them on, quickly turning his front to him, but Rick had already seen the scars. He’d traced them with his fingertips just moments ago as Daryl thrust into him. 

“What’re you doing?” he frowned. 

“Puttin’ ma’ pants on, whatcha think?”

“But why?” Rick asked, inadvertently running his eyes over the hunter’s still naked chest. “I thought we were going again.”

Daryl shrugged. “Gonna grab a smoke. An’ I need to recharge before we go again.”

Rick squinted. “Thought you said you smoked the last one.”

“Got a couple more,” the archer said distractedly as he searched for his shirt.

“Well, smoke away then,” he said, trying to fake being bothered by it, but only slightly. 

“Here?” the hunter asked. He nodded. “Thought ya hated it.”

Rick lied back on the bed and closed his eyes. “You can if you want. The smoke won’t go downstairs to Judith and Carl.”

“Ya sure, man?”

“m’ sure,” he said, peeking at Daryl shortly then closing his eyes again, hearing the distinctive sound of a lighter and a cigarette being lit, right before the barely perceptible sound that had Daryl’s cheeks hollowing with the eagerness he sucked on the thing to draw out as much smoke as he could from one drag.

And then the sharp smell hit him and it felt all over again as if Daryl was on top of him, nuzzling against him and buried deep inside him. Rick smiled as a tiny shift from his hips intensified that constant, delicious ache in his bum. 

Opening his eyes, he rolled on his side and propped his weight on his elbow to stare at Daryl insistently as the older man took a second drag from his cigarette, looking positively sinful as he did so. His gaze fell to the man’s lips as they let the smoke out slowly, savoring the after taste when it was all out.

“Let me try that.”

“Hmmm?”

Rick reached out for the cigarette, but Daryl moved it away just as he was about to reach it. “Ya gonna destroy this one too?”

“No, I wanna try it,” he said, holding his hand out.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” he said smiling. “I promise I won’t destroy it.”

Daryl smirked and handed the cigarette over. “Ya even know how t’ do it?”

“I think I can handle the challenge,” Rick teased and brought the white cylinder to his mouth, placing the tip between his lips. He briefly glanced at Daryl before sucking on it; the action filling his mouth with smoke for a second before he puffed it out, tasting the smoky flavor left behind. It tasted like Daryl’s kisses. Not bad at all.

“That ain’t smokin’”

“What d' you mean?” he frowned.

“Ya just kept the smoke in yer mouth. Yer s’pposed to breath it in.”

“I know that,” Rick scoffed making Daryl snort. 

“Then do it.”

“Alright,” he sighed and brought the cigarette back to his mouth. And this time, when he sucked, instead of just keeping the smoke in his mouth, he inhaled it. 

He was able to hold it in for all but half a second before he coughed it all out. 

“See? It ain’t that easy the first time,” Daryl said as Rick handed the thing back to him with a grimace of disgust.

“Well, I’ll do better next time,” Rick said, smiling smugly. 

Daryl just shook his head and continued to smoke his cigarette. 

After that first time, having sex became a nightly ritual. After Rick put Judith down to sleep, they’d sneak upstairs to _their_ bedroom and had at least two rounds of sex before they were satisfied enough to fall asleep. 

Daryl would pull out his beaten cigarette package, fish out two cigarettes and lit them both, handing one to Rick.

“Gotta tell ya,” Daryl said out of the blue, “fer a while there I thought ya were doin’ it as a weird strategy to make me quit.” He shifted closer to put out his cigarette butt on the ashtray between them. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout quittin’ ya know?”

“What?” 

“Not good fer ya,” the archer said mater-of-factly.

“Now that I pick up on it you’re gonna leave me alone with it?” Rick asked with mock hurt in his voice.

Daryl shrugged. “Ya can quit too.”

Rick put out his own cigarette and leaned closer to Daryl to capture his lips in a passionate, smoke flavored kiss. When they parted, he grabbed the ashtray and put it on his nightstand before tucking himself against his hunter’s side, smiling as the shift made his bottom ache. 

“Not a chance.”


End file.
